


The Tale of the Beetle Jar

by MammaWeasley27



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MammaWeasley27/pseuds/MammaWeasley27
Summary: Quills and Parchment Scandal One Shot Competition Runner Up for Best Humor **I have plans to expand on this plot line - stay tuned!**





	

Hermione checked her lipstick in the mirror for the third time that night. She still wasn’t sure how Ginny and Luna had been able to convince her that she could pull off the deep berry color that she was currently fretting over, but they had. It kept drawing her eye, especially since she never normally wore more than mascara. And now look at her: bronze eyes and berry lips. It was too much! She felt overdone, like a child playing in her mum’s makeup, but they had sworn she looked drop-dead gorgeous when she had sampled it the other day at the new beauty shop in Diagon Alley. She had handed over her galleons before she could truly take time to consider it, and now, here she stood, panicking in her bathroom. She was terrified it was going to rub off onto her teeth or something else decidedly not sexy. Supposedly it was spelled with a twelve-hour sticking charm, but she was skeptical; magic and beauty products were two things she still wasn't completely comfortable mixing. 

 

She heard her Floo chime in the other room, and the accompanying whooshing noise that denoted someone entering her home. “In here!” she called out, the shout echoing off the tiles around her.

 

Ginny entered, stopping in the doorway behind her. “No,” she said simply. Hermione whirled around, mouth dropping open in shock. 

 

 _"No?"_ she repeated, wondering to what her friend was referring. Surely it couldn’t be the lipstick.

 

“We are going out. As in, outside, into the real world, to mingle amongst other successful, mature adults. I don’t have a child or husband clinging to me for this _one_ night. You are going to dress up, and you are going to _like it_ , or else! No trousers,” she admonished, dipping her head at the offending garment. “You’re allowed a skirt or a dress. Those are your choices. And since I’m feeling properly magnanimous - and _knew_ you wouldn’t be sporting without proper encouragement - I took the liberty to buy you a proper dress for the occasion. You're welcome.” At this, she brandished a shopping bag that Hermione hadn’t noticed while she and her clothing choices were being attacked. 

 

Hermione glowered at the bag. “What’s wrong with my trousers?” she challenged, caressing her cotton-blend covered thigh. “I happen to _like_ these trousers. They make my legs look long, and properly cup my arse; I’ve been told so when I've worn them at work. More than once!”

 

They were her _nice_ trousers. In fact, they were probably her favorite item of clothing, aside from the denim jacket that she had thrown over her purse, waiting to be donned.

 

“What’s wrong is they show absolutely _zero_ leg! We’re having a hen night, not an old crone night! I’m wearing a dress, Luna’s wearing a skirt - the others are dressing up also - and you are going to wear something nice if it kills you. I’m not going to allow you to go out looking like you live alone with thirty kneazles.”

 

Hermione harrumphed. “Now, that’s not fair; I only have _two!_ Crooks and Fitz do not in any way, shape, or form equate to _thirty_. And Crooks is only half kneazle.” As if he’d been called, Hermione’s new kneazle, Fitzwilliam, slunk his way into the room, winding around her legs before hopping up onto the counter. 

 

Ginny leveled an unimpressed, pinched glare at her friend as she stood there, scratching at her pet. “Again, I will not let you out of this flat unless you are properly attired for fun,” she said maniacally, thrusting the bag at her. “And you’re going to let me at that hair.”

 

Hermione seethed but took the bag. She knew that if she didn’t comply, Ginny was liable to force the issue, stripping her and then burning her clothing into nothing as Hermione watched, dancing on the ashes as she cried.

 

“Fine, but only because I fear for the safety of my poor trousers.”

 

Ginny glowed, teeth flashing brightly as she grinned. “Perfect. I’m going to go get something to drink while we wait for Luna.” She turned on the spot, copper hair fanning out behind her as she flounced triumphantly towards the kitchen.

 

Muttering the whole while, Hermione stripped down to her lacy black panties and bra, then stuck her hand into the bag and grabbed at the garment, chucking the empty bag over her shoulder petulantly. Fitzwilliam wasted no time in pouncing on the discarded plastic, reacting ecstatically when it crinkled underneath his frantically batting paws.

 

“Oh, _fuck_.” she breathed, holding the dress up in front of her and eyeing it for the first time. “Ginny’s trying to kill me, isn’t she, Fitz?” The kneazle was too distracted by the bag to deign to answer.

 

The dress looked to be two or three sizes too small; Hermione had no idea how she was supposed to be able to fit into it without looking like a sausage bursting from its casing. Maybe Ginny needed glasses like Harry… She had never been so off on her size! Was she going to need to use an Engorgement Charm just to make it fit?

 

“If I suffocate, I’m going to come back and haunt her until she dies, and then I'll haunt her grave…” Hermione vowed to her young familiar, his intelligent peridot green eyes locked on her, tail flicking back and forth lazily. 

 

Full of trepidation, she pulled the garment over her head and let out a breath when she realized it was stretchier than it had originally felt, easily covering her curves. After she smoothed the material over her body, she turned towards the mirror to take in the damage.

 

Hermione was sure her eyes bulged out when she saw her appearance in the mirror - the dress was a turtleneck with black and white stripes and no sleeves. It clung tightly to her body, and Hermione was sure that it came from the misses’ section, as it barely hit her mid-thigh. She fussed at her reflection, turning this way and that; she had to admit her begrudging, but frank, appreciation of Ginny’s skill at picking out flattering clothing for her, no matter its store of origin.

 

“That looks very fetching on you,” A soft, lilting voice carried over to her, startling her from her posturing. “A bit tight, but that seems to be the style these days. Just be careful you don’t go wandering in any fields, as the Blibbering Humdingers are known to take off with maidens that they find to be particularly scrumptious.”

 

Hermione blinked a few times, trying to wrap her mind around Luna and her “Loony-isms,” as Ron called them. She still had a bit of a hard time deciphering what the blonde meant from time to time, despite the many years they'd spent as friends. 

 

“Why, Luna, dear, I do believe there was a compliment buried under there,” Ginny joked, coming up behind the blonde, a pop can in her hand. Luna grinned noncommittally and shrugged, making her way over to the bathroom counter and pulling herself up onto the marble surface. When Fitz noticed her presence, he abandoned the bag and hopped up next to her and settled down. Luna began to scratch behind his ears, and the small audience watched as Hermione tugged at the dress, attempting to get an extra inch out of the length.

 

Ginny tutted at her and slapped at her hands. “None of that! It looks perfectly fine where it is; don’t you dare stretch it out!”

 

“I feel like my arse is on display!” Hermione whinged.

 

“Nothing wrong with that, it’s a beautiful arse. Nice, and firm, and round…” Luna drifted off, a hazy look in her eye that made Hermione blush spectacularly. Hermione was quite used to Luna and her ambiguous sexuality, that was, until it was turned against her own person. 

 

Ginny laughed at her friends as she stepped into the bathroom and set her pop down on the counter. “Luna’s right. Besides, that's the point! You _and_ your arse deserve some love and attention tonight, and you wouldn’t be getting any if you had kept it covered up in those horrible, old lady trousers. Now, enough about you and your damned plump arse!”

 

Hermione couldn't stop the snort of laughter that escaped her. She loved these two witches so much and was proud to be their friend. 

 

Hermione’s laughter was cut short by a look of horror as Ginny pulled out her wand and advanced on the brunette. “Time to tame the beast.”

 

****

**OxOxOxOxO**

 

Hermione was still getting used to the length of the dress when they finally Apparated to Diagon Alley and began making their way towards their destination. 

 

They chattered excitedly as they walked; They didn't get the chance to go out together often, but when they did, they snatched up the opportunity greedily. They had already had a luncheon earlier in the month, but Lavender’s hen party was exactly the type of excuse they needed to justify a secondary excursion.

 

Lavender and Ron were due to be married early Sunday afternoon, and Parvati - the maid of honor - had invited the bridal party out for drinks and karaoke - what Lavender deemed appropriate for a hen night. Hermione and Ginny had enjoyed a nice, private laugh about that; it was no secret that Lavender had been enormously offended at Ginny’s own hen night, which had been full of male strippers and whipped cream.

 

The bridal party consisted of Parvati, her twin - Padma, Ginny, Luna, Hermione, and, surprisingly, Susan Bones, another of Ron’s exes.

 

Lavender had originally tried to exclude Hermione from the bridal party - despite her inclusion of Susan - which resulted in Ron threatening to ask her to be a groomsman instead. She would have been the final member of his party, joining all five of his brothers, and Harry as the best man. This had caused a pretty major tiff between the two lovebirds. Lavender did eventually concede, however, saying it was much more fitting for her to be a bridesmaid, all things considered.

 

Hermione knew what “things” had been “considered,” though; Molly Weasley had turned her infamous cold shoulder on the blonde, going so far as to threaten to not bake the cake, and Lavender hadn’t been able to cope with being a pariah within her soon-to-be family. She finally went and confessed her true insecurities to Ron, who had reminded her that, despite the depth of their relationship, Hermione was nothing more than a sister to him. He said that their past - and massively failed - relationship should be proof enough of that. He also pointed out that she had chosen Susan to be in the party, and that just because Hermione wasn’t _her_ personal friend didn’t mean she was a threat to their happiness. “Besides,” he’d said, “I dated Susan longer.” After that, Lavender had softened somewhat towards Hermione, and Molly had lifted her self-imposed ban on all things Lavender.

 

Despite all that, Hermione had tried to keep out from underfoot, and thus ended up spending most of the last three months in the company of the Weasley men and Harry, helping the latter to fulfill his duties as best man. She had greatly enjoyed the time spent with her two best friends, but she was quite done with the incessant masculine drivel. She could only hear them talk about Quidditch scores or the latest PlayWizard so many times, although they only brought up that last because they knew it took the piss out of her.

 

Which is why when it came time for the stag do and hen night, Hermione had been quite glad that Ron hadn't actually made her a groomsman. In a very un-Hermione-like fashion, she was happy to be going out, doing something decidedly more girly and out of her comfort zone; she had helped Harry plan out what the blokes were going to be doing, and she had zero interest in playing Quidditch at night with a glow-in-the-dark ball set, then chasing it all down with Ogden’s. Thanks, but no. 

 

The bar the ladies were gathering at, The Horny Toad, was relatively new, having popped up in the aftermath of the war. It was a favorite of Hermione’s, and she had gotten to be on quite good terms with the proprietor over the intervening years. 

 

Things were just starting to pick up for the night when they got there, and they began scanning the dusky room for a booth or a high top table. They found a group that was about to leave, so they stood by, chatting absentmindedly, waiting to snipe the table out from under the soon-to-be-departing party before someone else could. After all, there were six women that needed to accommodated tonight, and a large table was a commodity that they just couldn't pass up. Even if they had to resort to a bit of cutthroat behavior to get it. 

 

As soon as the group at the table began to scoot out of the booth and gather up their things, Luna Apparated to a seat to claim it, leaving Ginny and Hermione chuckling, and the departing group scowling at her forwardness. Luna didn't seem to notice their disapproval of her methods, and was already perusing the drink menu as her friends made to join her.

 

“Hmm, do I want a Fizzing Whiskey or a Draught of Living Deathtini?” she considered lazily, her pale brows furrowed in thought. As Hermione and Ginny were getting settled, the other four women entered the bar, and, spotting the group at the table, began to wade their way over through the sea of fellow patrons.

 

“Good Merlin, it's packed tonight!” Susan exclaimed, huffing out a breath as she sat down. The other three finally straggled up the the booth after they had found their way impeded by a flux of servers from the kitchen on their way to deliver floating trays of food.

 

“Happy hen night, Lavender!” Hermione said brightly, smiling at the curvaceous witch.

 

“Is that the drink menu, Luna?” Lavender asked, refusing to acknowledge Hermione. This caused Hermione’s face to pinch slightly, and Ginny to scowl, her nostrils flaring as her eyes bored into her future sister-in-law.

 

Luna looked up from her careful perusal and blinked owlishly at the bride-to-be.

 

“Yes, it is, but I'm not through with it quite yet. Give me just a moment; I should be done by the time you're done talking with Hermione.” And with that, she stuck her nose back between the folds of the menu, oblivious to the mortified look on Lavender’s face. 

 

Silence reigned around the table for a moment, before Lavender picked her pride up off the floor and addressed Hermione with all the dignity and poise she could muster.

 

“Thank you. Hermione,” Lavender choked out, taking a tad longer as she seemed to chew on the name as it forced its way past her unwilling lips.

 

Hermione, in the name of cohesion and harmony, pasted a bright smile on her face and addressed the witch again.

 

“I'm so thrilled Ron has you. It's truly nice to see him so happy and comfortable in his own skin.”

 

At that Lavender’s bitter, almost deranged-looking smile took on a more gentle side. “Thank you,” she breathed out, her shoulders losing the tension they had been holding. “He means the world to me.”

 

Luna very subtly passed the drink menu over to the other side of the table, and Ginny took the opportunity to engage Susan in a discussion about the latest Quidditch match of the season - the Ballycastle Bats vs. the Falmouth Falcons - and everyone else around the table fell into easy conversation as they waited for their server to come and take their orders. 

 

**OxOxOxOxO**

 

The ladies were just finishing their desserts when they noticed a very unwelcome sight.  
“Oh, no! What are they doing here?” Padma groaned, eyes locked on the figures of the seven very familiar men who had just walked through the door.

 

Lavender - heavily in her cups by now - frowned and pouted like a child when she saw her fiancé.

 

“Merlin’s pants! I told them not to come here! ‘Any pub _but_ The Horny Toad,’ I said. And did they listen? No!” Hermione groused as she rose from the table and made her way towards the bar where the men were all gathered, loudly discussing their game.

 

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, tapping the messy-haired wizard hard on the shoulder.

 

Harry jumped and whipped around, a guilty, sheepish look already in place on his face.

 

“Merlin, Hermione! Don’t scare a chap like that; you’re going to give me a heart attack!” 

 

“Harry James Potter, your antics will not dissuade me from my purpose of coming over here: What are you doing _here?_ I played go-between for you and Padma for _two_ weeks while we planned this, and you promised to stay away for the night, or do you not remember?”

 

Hermione scowled at the small grin he shot her.

 

“About that,” he scratched at the back of his head in nervousness, “We originally went to the Leaky, but the bar’s been bought out for the night for some private event - only through access to the alley allowed, so that’s what we did. Once we got into the alley, Ron decided he wanted to go here. I really tried; he just wouldn’t listen to me, ‘Mione! He didn’t know you guys were here, either, so it’s not really a case of foul play. Can you just give him a break? He’s been in a right mood all day, and no one can get it out of him what’s wrong, other than that it doesn’t have to do with Lavender or the wedding.”

 

There was a loud scraping sound behind her, and Hermione turned just in time to see the back of a black head of hair make its way through the crowd towards the loo.

 

“Was that Pansy Parkinson?” Harry asked, clearly straining for _something_ that could distract Hermione from her warpath.

 

Hermione shrugged dismissively, rounding again on her best friend. 

 

“Pansy Parkinson won’t distract me from ripping you a new arsehole, Harry,” Hermione laughed, punching him solidly in the shoulder. “Your wife is not going to be happy when she finds out you’re being so lackadaisical about this, you know.”

 

Harry’s expression grew grim. “ _I know._ I know, but -”

 

Just then, there was a loud shout and a string of swearing from the area of the loos.

 

“What’s going on? Someone set a banshee loose?” asked Charlie Weasley, coming over to join Harry and Hermione, most of his brothers following him. The glaringly noticeable exception to the rule was Ron, who was slumped over the bar, his shoulders hunched protectively over his second pint.

 

Slowly, the screeching grew more thunderous and more adamantly agitated as the fight - for it was now obvious that’s what it was - spilled from the women’s loo and into the pub proper.

 

Hermione’s eyes popped wide and her jaw dropped when she realized it was _Lavender_ who was doing the majority of the wailing, the other noises caused by spellfire between her and another screaming witch. The same dark-haired witch who had left the bar top not two minutes earlier. 

 

Patrons quickly moved out of the way, effectively enclosing the sparring women in a circle of onlookers, much to the annoyance of the staff, who were trying to break through to put a stop to the fight.

 

“You horrid harpy! Just leave me alone!” Pansy spat - for it was indeed Pansy, tears running unchecked down her cheeks, her wand held out defensively in front of her, the slight shimmer of a shield surrounding her.

 

" _Me?!_ What about _you,_ you man-hungry whore? Who were you sending that Patronus to? And since when have you _ever_ even noticed Ron, let alone liked him?”

 

At that, Ron finally looked up from his drink, his face paling under his freckles and flaming hair. “Fucking hell,” he breathed.

 

“What’s going on, Ron? Why would Lavender say that?” Harry demanded warily, reaching out for his wife to pull her protectively into his side as she and the other ladies converged with their male counterparts to watch the scene in front of them play on.

 

Ginny’s eyes were large with worry. She was nervously biting at her lower lip, and kept casting anxious glances between her next oldest brother and the two witches squaring off in the middle of the dining area.

 

Ron stood quickly, making to dart over to break up the fight, but Ginny’s free arm shot out and stopped him. “Are you sure that’s wise?” she asked quietly, which only served to raise the confusion between the rest of their combined parties, most notably her own husband.

 

Ron shrugged off her arm and her question with a quick, “Don’t have much choice now, do I?”

 

With that cryptic remark, he was off, slipping easily through the gathered crowd, using his height and considerable strength to muscle his way through on the few occasions he did meet resistance. Quite quickly, Ron reached Lavender’s side, the crowd congealing together again in the wake of his passage. He approached his fiancée cautiously, hands up in a sign of submission, and they began talking earnestly, but quietly. It was impossible to understand them after the utter bedlam that had just taken place, and the combined speculative whispers and murmurs rolling off of those gathered. 

 

Hermione turned on Ginny as soon as she realized he was well and truly gone, “What the hell do you know about all this, Ginevra Potter?” she demanded.

 

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, face full of chagrin, but before she had uttered a word, the whole pub found out the cause of the fight.

 

 _“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ONCE PROPOSED TO HER?!!”_ Lavender roared, her face the same color as her name, glasses and bottles cracking and popping around the room as she let loose a burst of emotionally-charged accidental magic.

 

The room grew deathly quiet, as if everyone had stopped breathing all at once.

 

Pansy looked horrified, paler than she’d ever been, knuckles bone-white as she continued to grip her wand defensively. Ron looked stony but determined, his mouth screwed up in a grimace.

 

“Pansy and I dated for two years after Hermione and I broke up,” Ron started, his voice filling the pub from floor to ceiling. Hermione was sure shock was the only thing keeping Lavender quiet as Ron continued his tale.

 

“It started off as a drunken one night stand, but then it turned into us seeking each other out when we needed a good shag, and before either of us knew it, we had begun being friendly towards each other, sharing everything between us. After two months I asked her to be my girlfriend, officially. She said yes, but we both decided to keep things secret; it wasn’t that long after the war, after all, and people were still being massive gits about the whole thing to anyone with even a distant connection to the losing side; and we didn’t really feel comfortable putting ourselves out there that much at the time.” He paused to take a shuddering breath, steeling himself for what was to come next.

 

“Those two years were the happiest of my life. I hated keeping things quiet, but I was so sure everyone would hate me - hate us - if we came forward. But I knew I had to say something soon, because I had a ring I’d been hiding for a good few months, and was preparing to propose. One night, she found where I’d stupidly hidden the ring. I didn’t see any reason to wait any longer, so I asked her to marry me, just like that,” Ron and Pansy locked eyes, derisive blue meeting hurt brown. 

 

“I’ll never forget how I felt like the world had ended when she said no and stormed out of my flat,” he sneered, jaw clenching around his words as he ground them out.

 

Lavender’s hands flew petulantly over her ears, as if she could stop the words from being true if she could just _not_ hear them. Angry tears poured down her face, and she sliced her wand through the air, training it on the witch across from her. Ron quickly stepped between them, using his body to block access to Pansy.

 

“Move, Ronald!” Lavender screeched.

 

Ron just shook his head. “I understand if you’re mad at me for not telling you sooner, but it wasn’t just my secret to keep. If I had told you and things went sour, it could have meant trouble for Pansy as well. Don’t take it out on her.”

 

“No! I refuse to believe this. If you’re really telling the truth, _someone_ would have known about you two. And _no one_ does, do they?” Lavender crowed triumphantly, as if she had somehow poked a hole in what could only be a weak joke.

 

Hermione could _hear_ Ginny gulp as Ron and Pansy’s eyes slid over to her of their own volition.

 

Lavender spun around quickly, her head whipping back and forth as she attempted to see just who they were both focused on. She froze when she caught sight of her very uncomfortable looking future sister-in-law. Ginny could be heard muttering something along the lines of, “Morgana’s fucking perky tits…”

 

“Ginny, tell me this isn’t true. Tell me this is some sort of horrible, tasteless prank that Fred and George planned,” she commanded.

 

Harry squeezed his wife’s hand in support, which contrasted perfectly with the disbelief and betrayal on his face, and Ginny took the plunge.

 

“They’re telling the truth. I caught them together once at Ron’s flat when they forgot to close off the Floo.”

 

Lavender looked like she was going into shock; she was shaking, her wand waving wildly in her jittering hand.

 

“Lavender, just calm down.”

 

“How can you stand there and say that to me, Ronald?! Our whole relationship is built on a _lie!_ Were you two still together when you got with me?”

 

Ron was mad now, “Of course I wasn’t still with her! What kind of man do you take me for?”

 

“Oh, so I was the rebound?”

 

“No!” Ron bellowed. “We’d been apart for eight months when I got with you! I’d gone out a few times in that span, but you _were_ the first serious relationship after the fact,” he begrudgingly admitted.

 

Lavender scoffed dismissively. “I don’t care! How could you have kept it from me that you had almost married someone else?”

 

“He didn’t almost marry me, you daft bint!” Pansy sneered, “He _wanted_ to. I said _no._ We had a fight. I broke up with him. That’s it. _The end.”_

 

“As if I’d believe anything _you_ say, you viper,” Lavender spat.

 

Pansy drew herself up to her full, though diminutive, height. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. That’s the truth, and you can go choke on it.” Lavender and a few of the onlookers gasped at her declaration.

 

With her piece done, Pansy turned her nose up and made to leave, heading towards the bar to gather up her coat, which was still hanging innocently over the back of her bar stool.

 

A fire lit in the blonde’s eyes as Pansy passed by her, and before the defenseless woman could react, Lavender had shot a spell her way, only for it to be blocked bodily and with a spell by an irate Ron.

 

“DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO HARM HER!” he roared, eyes glinting, and face as red as his hair as he squared off against his fiancée.

 

Lavender looked completely cowed by his actions. She stood, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, for a moment, and then whispered, “So that's how it is, is it? You're putting _her_ before me?”

 

Ron blanched, but held firm. “No, but I will put myself between your wand and her unprotected back.”

 

Just then, there was a commotion from the front doors, and Hermione could hear the clack of familiar stiletto heels on tile, as well as an influx of other various kinds of footwear.

 

“Oh no, the paparazzi’s here!” Hermione began delegating tasks to everyone, “Luna, run and grab our purses and my jacket, please! Fred, George, you two slow them down so we can get to Ron.”

 

Everyone was so busy scrambling to get away from the reporters that they didn't hear Lavender’s parting, “We're done,” aside from Ron and Pansy, who were closest. 

 

“Come on, Ron! We have to go!” Harry shouted over the sudden din.

 

Ron just shook his head, his eyes never leaving Pansy’s. “You go ahead, Harry, I'll take care of myself. You just get my sister out of here.”

 

Harry, who was still a favorite with the paparazzi, didn't bother arguing. Instead, he grabbed his wife around the waist and pulled her bodily from the building.

 

There was a mad rush of Weasleys and other members of the wedding party as they fled the scene. Hermione lost track of everyone as they all dashed through the quickly dispersing crowd - it seemed no one wanted to be accosted by the ravenous press. When she made it outside, Hermione saw Luna calmly waiting for her, holding her purse and jacket. 

 

“Come on, Luna,” Hermione gasped out, taking her friend’s hand and Apparating them out of the alley.

 

**OxOxOxOxO**

 

As soon as she was home, Hermione went into the other room and sent off an urgent Patronus while Luna let herself out via the open Floo after talking to the kneazles for a moment.

 

Half an hour after her Patronus left her flat, Hermione was sitting on her couch, sipping at a mug of cocoa, when there was a chime in her Floo, indicating the arrival of the person she’d been impatiently waiting for. 

 

“Took you long enough, Rita.”

 

The waspish woman looked far from her normal, carefully coiffed perfection; she was wearing sleep rumpled robes and her glasses were crooked on her face.

 

“Well, you did call for me at 3 am.” She snipped.

 

Hermione blew gently on her cocoa, ignoring the outburst. “Nice try, Rita dear. I know for a fact that you were at The Horny Toad. I also know that you know _exactly_ why I’ve called you here, so why don’t we stop with this game. And don’t try to play stupid with me; it's very unbecoming.”

 

Rita paled, her eyes wide behind her bejeweled spectacles. 

 

“Ron, Pansy, and Lavender are going to be on the front page, aren't they?”

 

The journalist nodded once. 

 

“That simply won't do, Rita. I need you to stop this.”

 

Rita was gobsmacked. “You’ve lost the plot! How am I supposed to stop them from reporting on this?! You know _I_ won't, no matter what. I learned my lesson the second time!” She was beginning to panic, at this point, “I really don't hold sway over the others like you think I do. Please don't put me in the jar again!” Rita’s voice quivered with fear and anxiety as she spoke, almost reverently, begging for mercy. 

 

“Rita, _dear,_ you and I both know that _this_ story is _nowhere near_ as scandalous as the one that will happen when I let it slip that you’re an unregistered animagus. Oh! Or there's the added tidbit about how you use - Pardon me, that should be _used,_ shouldn’t it? It is still used, isn’t it? Past tense. Or have you slipped up recently? Never mind, it doesn't _really_ matter, does it? At least, it won't in the eyes of the Wizengamot. Now, where were we? Ah, yes! How you used your illicit talent to get the inside scoop on oh so many celebrities and public figures. Those articles always did cast a bad light, didn't they? That's what you get when you use a Quick-Quotes Quill, I imagine. Anywho,” Hermione waved a hand as if to brush the matter off as inconsequential, “You either make this go away, or I make you go away - for five to 10 years. Seven, maybe, if you're on your best behavior, and if the Wizengamot grants you the option of parole. But, come now, we both know you don't know how an honest lady comports herself, so I can't even begin to see how they would be lenient on you. After all, you’re _very_ good at your job.” She finished with a shit-eating grin, and a hefty, double-edged wink. 

 

Rita glowered.

 

“Fine,” she spat, “I'll see if there are any favors I can call in.”

 

Hermione grinned triumphantly and sipped at her cocoa as the awful slag of a witch vanished in a flash of green flames.

 

**OxOxOxOxO**

 

Saturday started calmly enough, despite the fact that Hermione’d received a very late - or was it early? - Patronus from Ron, stating that he and Lavender had split the night before. She was able to eat breakfast in peace before she was interrupted by the chime of the Floo, and a frantic, soot-covered Harry spilling out over her hearthrug.

 

“‘Mione, we need you at the Burrow. _Now._ Whole family meeting happening in fifteen.”

 

Hermione frowned, “I'm not family, Harry. Did you forget again?” _It wouldn’t be the first time..._

 

Her best friend leveled a look at her at that. “Don't even try to deny that you've been dating Fred for the past month - Ginny told me. Can't say I'm happy about how I found out, but now I know you were at least skipping out on our usual Ministry lunch dates for someone worthwhile.”

 

Hermione’s coffee mug slipped out of her hands, and dropped to the ground. She was so shocked she didn’t even notice as the shards and dregs spread out across her wood floor. 

 

“Ron needs you, ‘Mione! I need you. Hell, I think even _Molly_ needs you right now. We've got a wedding to prepare for!”

 

“Who the bloody hell's getting married?” she queried, brow furrowing as she tried to wrap her head around what was being said, as her mind was still on the fact that her little secret was out.

 

“Ron and Pansy! Now come on, ‘Mione, and move!”

 

**OxOxOxOxO**

 

Hermione sighed happily, sipping at her English Breakfast, her legs thrown over the arm of her favorite wingback armchair, a book in hand.

 

It was Monday, and, despite it being a work day, she had no intention of doing any work; her weekend had been quite hectic enough, thank you very much, and she figured she deserved a nice lie in. Kingsley wouldn’t mind, she knew, as he more than understood the ordeal she’d been through, having been there to witness it for himself.

 

Saturday had been positively barmy...

 

She had arrived to find a scene of utter chaos laid out before her: Molly was sobbing as she rushed about the kitchen, muttering about how her boy had lost his ever-loving mind; Arthur and the oldest three boys were outside, hastily constructing the marquis that had been used for all the Weasley weddings that had taken place thus far; Ginny was chatting with and serving tea to a shell-shocked, but smiling, Pansy; Fred and George were over in a corner, talking quietly with Ron, all three of them wearing very serious expressions on their faces as they attempted to work something out.

 

When Ron noticed Harry and Hermione standing on the hearth, he rushed over to them and dragged them back to where he and the twins had been conversing. Hermione only caught the odd word that passed hurriedly through his lips, but from what she did understand, she gathered that he and the twins were trying to reconfigure the wedding invitations: sending out new ones to people who were on a list that had been hastily made by Pansy, and alerting those who had been invited by Lavender that she was no longer going to be getting married, and their presence was unwelcome.

 

“What if some of them show up?” George asked. “They could make a right circus out of the ceremony if they put up a fuss.”

 

“What if you ward things so that it doesn't allow entrance to anyone in possession of one of the old invitations? Simply send out all new ones for everyone? We can charm them as Portkeys or have them specifically keyed into the wards, that way you can only arrive on the property if you have one. Think that would fix your dilemma?”

 

Both twins were grinning massively, and Ron and Harry looked dumbfounded.

 

“You can do that?” Pansy asked from across the sitting room, having overheard the discussion.

 

“Of course,” Hermione shrugged, “It’s not too horribly complex, but it will take a fair bit of time.”

 

“Knew I liked you for a reason. With a witch that amazing, a bloke’d be stupid not to marry you as quickly as possible, if not just to get you off the market.” Fred joked, winking down at her suggestively. Hermione blushed clear up to her hair at his declaration, especially when Molly dropped something that sounded rather heavy, and came flying out of the kitchen, covered in bits of flour and cocoa.

 

“What? _What?!_ You two are seeing each other? And you didn't tell me?!” she shrieked, cheeks flushed with excitement, and a spark in her eye that Hermione had learned the hard way meant only one thing: she was plotting another Weasley wedding.

 

“Relax, woman, we've only been dating for a month! Don't start in on us now,” Fred admonished, wrapping himself protectively around Hermione as if he could bodily shield her from the scheming his mother was obviously doing right before their very eyes. Despite his words, he was clearly chuffed that his mother approved, as he couldn’t help grinning widely, causing his mirth-filled eyes to crinkle around the corners.

 

After that, things fell into the amicable ease that had developed over years of working and living together, and soon enough everything was as ready as it could be for the ceremony taking place the next day; especially considering the circumstances.

 

Hermione had worked with Ginny and Pansy to drum up a new bridal party, as Susan and the Patil twins had backed out of the ceremony when Lavender did. That was swiftly brought to rights after a quick fire call to each of Pansy’s best friends: Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bullstrode.

 

“Now we're just one short.” Hermione said as she checked over the lineup for the wedding party for the second time. “I guess Daphne could just be escorted by both twins. I mean, that would work, right?” She was too busy trying to solve the issue at hand to notice the pointed look that passed between Ginny and Pansy. 

 

“Actually,” Pansy began, after clearing her throat, “I was hoping that _you,_ Hermione, would be my last bridesmaid. You've done so much for Ron and me today, and have been an integral part of his life since he was eleven. I couldn't imagine our ceremony being right without you in it.”

 

As Pansy finished, silence descended upon the sitting room, until it was broken by a choked sob from the armchair in the corner, where Molly had been sitting with her feet propped up, resting after finishing the cake. 

 

“Oh, Mum,” Ginny sighed, hopping up from her seat on the floor to go comfort her emotionally-overtaxed mother, “Don't cry.”

 

Hermione was floored. She found all she could do was nod her head and mutter out an “Okay,” which caused everyone in the vicinity to let out a cheer. 

 

“Oi,” Harry hissed, “Not so loud! You'll wake the kids.”

 

A loud wail issued from upstairs, followed by a crash and a giggle. 

 

“Nevermind.” Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping.

 

Hours later, everyone gathered together in the back garden under an old, gnarled oak to eat a late, yet delicious dinner together. Toasts were made, roasts were given (mostly by the twins), and a good time was had by all.

 

Just before Molly served pudding, there was a viral case of yawning that went around the table, catching almost everyone. Little James and Teddy were both asleep already - one at his plate, fork still in hand, and the other on his father’s shoulder, snoring softly while his nan played with his hair. After the dessert plates were empty, they checked the time and collectively decided to retire early - or earlier than was normal for a Weasley shindig - as they would all need their rest before the next day, when all the last minute touches would need to be done.

 

Goodbyes were fleeting, as everyone knew they would be seeing each other in a short few hours, if not sooner, as most of the family was staying at the main house.

 

“Fred, just where do you think you’re off to?” Molly called, brow furrowed in confusion as her son went to follow their guests into the Floo. 

 

Fred stopped, one foot already in the fireplace. “Secret’s out, Mum. No reason to stay around until you're asleep, is there?”

 

Fred swiftly entered the Floo and shouted out his destination as Molly began squawking indignantly, and the rest of the family roared with laughter. Even Arthur had a quiet chuckle, although he was careful to stop when Molly looked his way.

 

Hermione and Fred wasted no time, falling into bed as soon as they got to her flat, both drifting off to sleep easily in each other’s arms.

 

Hermione awoke the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee. “Morning, luv,” Fred said quietly, pecking her on the forehead as he placed a steaming mug on the bedside table. “I know you're going to be busy today, so I figured I should start things off with an offering of caffeine.”

 

Hermione grinned impishly at her boyfriend. “I can think of a few other things we could start with instead…”

 

Soon enough, Hermione and Fred were back at the Burrow, and after that, it was a blur of food, tables, floral arrangements, bobby pins, champagne, and ivory lace.

 

Which was why Hermione found herself utterly knackered come Monday, and had taken it upon herself to declare the day to be one of rest and relaxation. She certainly felt she had earned it. And according to the front page of the Daily Prophet, which had been delivered by owl earlier that morning, Rita Skeeter seemed to think she had, too.

 

She couldn’t help but glance again at the article Rita had written. Not a word was mentioned of the scandalous happenings of Friday night, nor of the fact that the position of bride had changed hands the day before the wedding. No, all was glowing praise and best wishes for the happy couple. 

 

There was a picture of the new husband and wife, just as they sealed their vows with a kiss, followed by the caption:

 

**War Hero Weds - True Love Conquers All**

 

Hermione couldn’t help but agree as she admired the photo: Ron was sweeping Pansy up in his arms and bowing her over with the force of his joy; Pansy was laughing as she tried in vain to keep her veil in place with one hand and desperately clung to Ron’s shoulder with the other, all while giving herself over to the exuberant snog she was receiving from her new husband. They were very much the incarnation of the triumph of true love over evil. Even if the evil was just Lavender Brown. 

 

True, she would have to actually get to know her best friend’s wife, but that was okay; she had it on good authority that she would be family, soon, as well. Especially if Molly had something to say about it; and if Hermione had learned anything over the years that she’d spent with the Weasleys, it was that Molly invariably had _something_ to say about _everything._

"Ron's a married man now, 'Mione; you need to move on. Although, I hear he has a brother or two that're still available," Fred said with a wink, handing her the cup of tea she'd asked him to fetch.

"I know, you're right," Hermione sighed, "I wonder what Charlie's up to tonight?" She mused, innocently blinking up at him as she sipped, trying desperately to fight the smirk that was crawling up her face. 

"Why you cheeky, little -" Fred snatched her up out of her seat as she held her mug aloft, the paper sliding down to rest on the floor.

"Watch the tea, Frederick!" She giggled as he carried her off to her bedroom, setting the cup on a table as they passed by. 

Yes, she later thought as she lay in bed, she could definitely see another Weasley wedding in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> God, I haven't done my own formatting code in so long. Please forgive any mistakes - I swear I'll work on it!
> 
> Beta love to **MissandMarauder** of FFN.
> 
> I got runner up for Best Humor. Lost to **OlivieBlake** and her amazing OS  The Fairer Sex, so I truly count this as a win!


End file.
